


Stupid Love

by Slyther_een



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Bisexual Harry Potter, Bottom Draco Malfoy, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, But just a little, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Coming of Age, Dates, F/F, F/M, Family Reunions, Flirty Draco, Gay Draco Malfoy, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Idiots in Love, Light Bondage, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Malfoy Manor, Minnie is done, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Oblivious Harry, Oral Sex, PTSD, Panic Attack, Past our Past, Post-War, Rimming sex, Sexual Tension, Sneaking Hogwarts, Stress, Study Date, They have fun, Top Harry Potter, WHEN I SAY LIGHT, Weasley Burrow, really light
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:14:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26629600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slyther_een/pseuds/Slyther_een
Summary: The Saviour wants to live as just Harry. The ex-Death Eater just wants to live. All they want is just a normal year at Hogwarts. But it's Hogwarts dammit.P. S. Minnie is not ready for the history to repeat itself.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hannah Abbott/Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter (mentioned), Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley, Pansy Parkinson/Blaise Zabini, Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks (mentioned), Seamus Finnigan/Dean Thomas, past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley - Relationship
Comments: 9
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter-1 : Unexpected letters

**Author's Note:**

> Helloooo! So, I just want to tell English is not my tongue. So, please tell me if my Grammar is miserable and wrong. I just want to know. Please make it constructive. I'm kind of afraid to people being angry and they yell at me.👉👈

It was to the early morning _Raw-kah, raw-kah_ squawks and embracing tepid rays caress, the boy woke up. The faint sun rays flooding the room, tinged his porcelain skin a pastel beige. He nestled into the cot hogging the sheets all the way to his chin, curling up further. The bed was snuggly cuddleable and the room had a mellow warmth, swathing him like additional blankets. 

He was awake, but didn’t dare to open his eyes, for the fear this comfort was just a dream in his nightmare— nightmares of fire, pain, blood, suffering, death, War. He wished to sink further into his bed, if possible, and enjoy the pleasantness present instead of remembering the unpleasant days. 

He was tired, so tired of everything. It’s been two months and a half since the war ended, yet wasn’t able to move on. The only day he stepped out of the Manor was two weeks before, for his trial— oh! He wondered. How an ex-Death Eater— thanks very much to his Father— that’s him, moreover only him, was declared free was still a riddle. 

He and his Mother were free, imposed with a fine, whilst his Father was to serve life imprisonment in Azkaban. Not that Draco complained, he knew the odds for his Father to be free were very, very slim after assisting a psychopath for not one, but two wars. One, two; two wars, he counted mentally. Still, it hurt somewhere nonetheless. 

Draco Lucius Malfoy was _free,_ even so couldn’t make himself free. Malfoys were not supposed to live their days in hiding, however Draco was. He still wasn’t prepared enough to face the world and to say, he was scared would be an understatement. 

Of all, what irked him most was why Harry Bloody Potter exonerated him during his trials. He harked back to the day of his trial. 

He was sitting in the middle of the courtroom, head low, whilst his solicitor was dealing the Wizengamot; who were not even merely satisfied as per him. After a solid twenty minutes of arguing between the solicitor and members, he was bored. He was sitting at his trial, his life at pinpoint, one side to freedom and the other to imprisonment, with a dozen dementors hovering above his head, and he was bored; that made him want to laugh at his own irony.

But in a flash, he went pale like a dead man as signs of life left his face. The tiniest hope of being a free man died that instant. _Oh, Salazar! This is going to be awesome._ I'm fucked up for eternity. Harry Potter was descending the stairs. For what? _Of course, to speak against you, you nitwit;_ his inner self returned. 

He wanted to scream, cry, hit Potter, disapparate from here and go to his bed, he just wanted to be _free._ Then again, Draco never had a choice, did he? Because what leverage did his words hold against The Saviour. 

Mentally he began to prepare himself to live his entire life in Azkaban. What was he supposed to expect first, perhaps a dementor’s kiss or the highest ce—. 

‘— underage and was forced to take the mark.’ 

Wait one fucking second! Harry Potter is _defending me?_ It was then Draco really heard what was being spoken. 

One look around told he was not the only person to be taken aback. Everyone, except the Minister were shocked, because The Saviour speaking for an ex-Death Eater was not a usual sight you witness like the rising sun. Had something happened to Potter after the war? Or had someone imperiused him? For no chance in his right nous, Harry Potter, The Saviour of the Wizarding World would speak in favour of a Malfoy! 

For all Draco knew the _O Saviour_ could’ve spoken against him, conversely he didn’t! Potter was, trying to put him out of Azkaban! A plethora of questions demanding answers wanted to roll out of tongue, but laid off. 

The rest of the trial passed as a blurry obscure course. He vaguely remembered speaking something about his wand and mark under veritaserum. 

Two weeks since the trial, two weeks, and Draco was riled to no level because _Stupid Potter with his stupid hair and stupid scar_ didn’t leave his head even now. He was narked by the thought that Potter was always able to get under his skin with doing nothing. 

Draco still couldn’t find one reason, like _one fucking reason_ why Potter did that? What made him speak against snides and fights and rivalry of six years? Perhaps it was an apology for the sixth year— laying there, on the cold floor of the girls’ lavatory, body cut at several places in different angles, drowning in his own blood, at the brink of death— he shuddered at the memory. But Draco was not ready to accept that reason. 

For some idi-fucking-otic reason The Chosen One spoke for his trials, but why for his Mother? Of course, she didn’t carry an ugly skull and snake mark, The Dark Mark, in her flawless, unblemished skin like him. That didn’t mean Potter could defend his Mother. Something told there was more to “Why”. Except, he settled with “always the Saviour” complex. _Saint Potter._

Draco peeked to welcome the image of bluish sky fading to meet the lazy yellow, which edged to orange and red with hints of grey lingering in clouds, the amber hue sun peeping its face from behind the clouds was a perfect half pumpkin pie. Rolling over he cast a Tempus. Sighing as it was just minutes past dawn he drowsed to a dreamless sleep, lulled by the warm rays coupled with dim squawks and chirps. 

The next time he woke, it was due to a loud crack; startled, he swiftly bolted to grip the wand he used these days. 

His shoulders loosened and grip slackened only on seeing the round bulged eyes with mink coloured iris dissolving into black due to fear stared at him. He exhaled slowly as the house elf bowed so low his nose met the wooden floor.

‘Good morning Binny’, Draco greeted with a nod for the house elf to straighten. 

The elf brightened at the greeting as the fear of being punished drained. ‘Good morning Master Malfoy. I is coming to tell Master that Mistress is waiting for Master at the dining room for breakfast’, Binny said. 

It was only then the blonde descried his surroundings; the sky, vivid yellow with no hints of grey and blue as seen earlier and the sun up high, brilliant. Draco grimaced at the thought of sleeping so long and waking up at some fucking o'clock. The Tempus revealed that fucking o'clock to be a half past eight and slid out of bed. 

‘Tell Mother I'll join her in a moment Binny.’ The elf nodded and apparated with another crack causing his oscitant mind a wince. 

He stood there staring into nothingness and lost in depths, ruing the decisions he made that nearly killed him, being a puppet, following his father to the shit hole, not brave enough to stand up for himself, all for what? All he did wound as naught. At last Draco Malfoy was a failure to the Malfoy name, a disappointment to his Father, a blood traitor to the Death Eaters and an ex-Death Eater to the world. 

Draco looked at his begrimed forearm; The Dark Mark, blotched into a fugly scar. If squinted, one would be able to make the shape of the snake emerging from the skull. It was like a deformity on pristine skin. He wanted it to vanish, not just fade. With a shake, to cut short the thoughts that would drive him crazy and a sigh, he walked to the toilet and prepared himself for the foreseen day. 

He entered the dining room— which held its dark appearance, stony walls, cold floor, the only difference being warm and welcoming rather than cold and gloomy, regardless still holding traces of coppery blood smell, but a distant malodour— twenty-five minutes later after his morning toilette in navy blue robes simple, but elegant and ruffled hair. 

His Mother, reading the Prophet, rose from her seat embracing in a hug, placing a kiss to his forehead. 

‘Good Morning, Mother.’ Draco addressed as he pulled from her embrace. 

‘Good Morning, my little dragon’, she smiled. ‘Sleep well?’ she asked with a raised eyebrow.

‘Yes Mother’, he said, taking a seat across from her. Draco didn’t understand why his Mother refused to take the seat at the head of the table as she was more capable than his Father. Was she expecting him to take that seat with him becoming the Lord of Malfoy Manor? 

He glanced at The Prophet, the sight of a familiar mop of black hair over the front page welcoming him. Potter was wearing a grey t-shirt and denim trousers, and seemed to be walking down the Diagon Alley, carrying a bag and looked… hot! Not that he would admit it out loud Potter was hot or the fact he fancied Potter. He ogled for a beat as Pansy’s voice echoed, “Your gay is showing.”

‘Good. Let’s eat.’

‘Yes Mother’, answered Draco. ‘Let’s eat.’

They ate in comfortable silence, when an owl entered the room; a grey tawny owl carrying an... envelope. It was not Pansy’s nor Blaise’s, Greg and he were not talking, Theo is on vacation, so who? Perhaps it was for his Mother. His guesses were interrupted when the owl landed in front of him. The instant the letter was removed, the owl took off, not waiting for a treat.

It was sent to him, from whom? Draco deliberated over the possibilities as the script seemed to be knowing, albeit it seemed far. His memory came up with various shots like a film roll of handwritings of all his friends, yet none matched with the one in hand. He was damn effing sure he'd seen it before, but where? 

The colour of his face drained when he saw the seal’s crest. The emblem— divided into a snake, a lion, a badger and an eagle— _Hogwarts,_ his subconscious provided causing his stomach to lurch. 

His mother who must’ve taken note of the expression change in his face stopped him in a nick of time before breaking the seal. ‘Draco, it can wait till breakfast is complete’, she said in _The Tone_ that would leave no room for arguments. 

With all aristocratic pure-blood efforts Draco schooled his expressions neutral, to avoid the look of eagerness. ‘Yes Mother, it can wait’, he said, more to himself as a reminder to be calm and was relieved his throat didn’t betray him.

His stomach lost appetite as questions began to cloud his senses. _Why would they send a letter now? Is this some prank? Nah, that can’t be, can it? What if they make me work like Filch? What if I'm supposed to rebuild the broken castle? What if they are going to make me work with the elves? Well, that’s impossible._

After a ten long minutes’ stretch— brain supplying reasons from working as a servant to being offered a Headmaster’s post— Draco completed the meal; unheedingly. Wiping his hands in a napkin, he broke the seal. 

A small neatly folded parchment fell from the envelope along with a letter.

**HOGWARTS SCHOOL  
of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY  
Headmistress: Minerva McGonagall  
(Order of Merlin, First Class)**

Dear Mr. Malfoy,  
We are pleased to inform you that the school will be open for students who have missed N.E.W.T.s during the year 1997-1998 at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.  
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,  
Minerva McGonagall  
Headmistress

Wait-what? They are opening the Hogwarts for students who missed their N.E.W.T.s! And also invited _him_! Fan-bloody-tastic! Certainly Professor McGonagall must have lost her sanity during the battle. Why else would she send _him_ a letter? Of all the things he imagined this was not one of it. With more thoughts he turned to the second page skimming for details. 

**Uniform**  
Eighth-year students will require,

1\. Three sets of work robes with house badge(black)  
2\. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear  
3\. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)  
4\. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)  
5\. One set of Quidditch robes (if on team)  
Please note that all pupils’ clothes should carry name tags 

**Course books**  
All students should have a copy of each of the following: 

1\. The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 7 by Miranda Goshawk  
2\. Steps to excellent potioneer by Gethsemane Prickle (if studying N.E.W.T. level Potions)  
3\. Defence against the Darkest Art (if studying N.E.W.T. level Defence Against the Dark Arts)  
4\. A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration (Book-2) by Emeric Switch (if studying N.E.W.T. level Transfiguration)  
5\. Advanced Rune Translation by Yuri Blishen (if studying N.E.W.T. level Study of Ancient Runes)  
6\. The world of advanced Herbology of the World by Woolly Warehouse (if studying N.E.W.T. level Herbology)  
7\. The secrets of Magizoologist by Silvanus Kettleburn (if studying N.E.W.T. level Care of Magical Creatures)  
8\. Advanced Charms Study by Fortinbras Diritinesce (if studying N.E.W.T. level Charms)  
9\. The depths of Space by Estella Twilight (if studying N.E.W.T. level Astronomy)  
10\. Bygone Wizarding Timeline by Tulius Dabney (if studying N.E.W.T. level History of Magic)  
11\. Profundity of Ancient Foretelling by Yumifa Bastarache (if studying N.E.W.T. level Divination)  
other equipment  
12\. Playing with Numerus arte Mathematica, Grade 5 by Starosin Ermolvich (if studying N.E.W.T. level Arithmancy)  
13\. Muggles of the 20th century by Griphin Jones (if studying N.E.W.T. level Muggle Studies) 

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad.

He handed the letter to his Mother who was scrutinising her son for the entire period. As she read the letter, he picked up the small parchment and unfolded with trembling fingers hoping it was not a prank. 

Dear Draco Malfoy,  
I hope you and Mrs Malfoy are doing well. I can neither understand nor empathise on what you’ve been through at such a young age. You should understand we were at war, and we had to make our choices. The choice you took was to save your family. I can understand if you don’t want to take up your N.E.W.Ts, but I will be delighted if you do. 

Yours sincerely  
Minerva McGonagall

Reading the letter in Professor McGonagall’s caring voice was something that could be added to nightmares, he noted. 

So they want me to graduate. _Then what?_ Take over the Malfoy estates. Anyway he is going to take over the Malfoy estates; live his life off drinking expensive in the sumptuous Manor. 

Draco looked up from the parchment to meet her blue eyes having a hint of concern and anticipation lingering in her gaze. His mother placed a hand over his, drawing lazy circles on the back of his palm. 

‘Are you accepting the offer Draco?’ she sounded hesitant. He could make out the faint flicker of hope in them.

‘I don’t know Mother’, Draco replied with a frown, he envisioned the idea of going back to the place he nearly destroyed, ‘I'll think about it.’ Fear intensified in his stomach at the picture of numerous What-ifs flashing in eyes.

‘If you like to complete your studies without going to Hogwarts we can arrange home schooling, Draco.’ Narcissa Malfoy proposed with a forced smile.

‘I'll let you know Mother.’ Draco placed the letter and parchment in the envelope as he rose from the chair.

***

Miles away from Wiltshire, a raven-haired late teen was aroused due to the banging noise on the window and roaring floo. He pulled the pillows to his ears burying his head like a sandwich between the pillow and bed to block the noise, sinking deep into the bed wishing for further slumber. He groaned when the person entered the room— at this ungodly hour— without any knock. So that must be Ron, Harry thought inwardly. 

He peered his eyes to find Ron opening the window to let a tawny owl in. Oh dear, which fucking bastard of an idiot sends letters this early in the morning? He cursed. Harry rolled to lay in a comfortable position and cuddled with his blanket, hugging the pillow. 

‘Mate, wake up.’

‘G'way’, he whined which was muffled by the pillow.

‘Wake up you sodding idiot, else 'Mione will come up’, Ron threatened. 

‘UGH! RON! Why are you here at this god awful hour? Why are you even _up?_ ’ 

Ron snorted. ‘Godawful? Mate it’s near to ten. Wake up now.’ 

‘Let the man sleep Ron. I’ve killed the Dark Lord, I deserve some sleep’, he grumbled, trying to grip the blanket tight as Ron began to snatch it away. Before Harry could recover his blanket, a ringing high pitched cry startled him. 

‘HARRY JAMES POTTER!’ 

He jolted upright clutching the blanket to cover his torso. The witch rolled her eyes, she marched into the room and grabbed her boyfriend’s arm.

‘I'll give you ten minutes to finish your duties before you meet us in the Kitchen’, she ordered, taking off.

Harry sat there for a jiff rubbing the sleep of eyes processing the instructions. He sighed and moved to do his duties.

The scene that greeted him when he appeared after quite some minutes was nothing unusual, — the couple made sure to visit six days a week, letting him sleep on Sunday for the past week— Hermione scanning The Prophet whilst Ron prepared breakfast.

‘Morning.’ Harry called yawning, his voice still sluggish from the interrupted sleep, thanks very much to his friends. 

Ron placed a cup of steaming hot tea which, he sipped contentedly, offering a grateful smile to his mate. 

‘Everything alright?’ he checked them who were throwing uncertain glances. 

‘Yes. Fine.’ Hermione breathed, placing an envelope in front of him. Harry quirked an eyebrow up at her and glanced at Ron who gave a shrug. He placed the cup aside and picked the envelope. 

_To,  
Mr. H. Potter,  
No. 12, Grimmauld Place,  
Borough of Islington,  
London._

His eyes widened as he turned to break the seal, an unknown feeling began to knot his stomach at the glimpse of the emblem crested in the seal. Swallowing thickly, he broke the seal to remove the letter, beginning to skim. 

‘So’, Harry began sceptically, though he knew the answer and knew what was expected of him as an answer. ‘You’re going?’ he raised, and realised it was a stupid question. 

‘And you’re coming’, said Hermione, which Harry knew was already decided, he was to join. 

He was so exasperated by people making choices for him. He breathed slowly trying to remain calm, undoing the urge to lash out his anger and annoyance. 

‘I don’t know if I can 'Mione.’ he spoke in a glum tone. 

‘And why will that be?’ the witch raised an eyebrow.

‘It’s not easy 'Mione. The place was home to me, and the last time I was there, half of it was broken to grounds. It’s like all the happy memories we’ve had has been replaced by blood and crying and… ’ he trailed off leaving the sentence unfinished, but words outspoken. ‘You don’t understand’, Harry added. 

‘Oh Harry’, her voice softened. ‘I know it’s too much for you with everything. Yes, the place now holds awful memories, but it’s also where we grew Harry. You can’t forever avoid and forget it happened. At some point we really will have to go there, you do understand that, right?’ she said with a sad smile. 

Of course he knew he couldn’t avoid and forget it, he’s just not ready to visit, yet, act like everything was normal when nothing was; as memories, no nightmares cross his mind. Why can’t she understand? He just need time to sort things out for himself. Now he can’t, can he? He frowned. 

‘Yeah, mate we have to and, we… ’ Ron drawled. Hmph! A traitor disguised as a best mate. Shouldn’t he be supporting me! From when did Ron want to go to school!

‘Oh! Who is this and what have you done to my best mate!’ Harry joked, trying to lighten the mood before it continues to _The Talk_ about war, earning a snort from his best friends. 

‘You-Know-Whooooo’, he remarked, eyeing Hermione. He grinned at Ron on his choice of words, making the girl flush. He and Ron doubled over, whilst Hermione fixed them a stern glare. 

‘Don’t get side-tracked.’ Hermione snapped bringing them back. ‘Harry, you will join us, right?’ 

He pondered the idea of going back where he spent half his life, escaped every year from a megalomaniac before getting himself killed; finally, killed the megalomaniac there, notwithstanding also saw his home destroyed, lost people he loved. Harry wasn’t sure if he really did want to.

So Harry arrived at a conclusion, though he was uncertain if it was right. ‘Okay’, he said with a smile at which their face brightened and wasn’t that enough for him. 

‘Yes!’ Hermione squealed, throwing herself at Harry, crushing in a hug. 

‘So we’re going to make goody-good memories!’ Ron sing-songed, clapping his shoulder. He exhaled dramatically as she released, causing Ron to chuckle. 

‘Oh, shut it’, she spoke, but he spotted a cheerful twinkle in her eyes. 

‘So, they’ve invited everyone or only some?’ Harry quizzed with a particular platinum blonde in memory as they completed their breakfasts. 

‘I don’t know, mate.’ Ron shrugged. ‘McGonagall is not a woman to hold grudges, especially not in things like this’, he paused for a tick before continuing, ‘Why, am I missing something or are you expecting someone?’ 

‘No. No, it’s just... Malfoy’s wand is still with me, and I must return it soon if he too received a letter and don’t know if… ’ Harry trailed off, unsure if it was the correct thing to say. 

‘From when in this world did you care for that obnoxious git, mate?’ Ron queried. 

‘It’s not like I care or anything. I just think it’s time for us to stop fighting and move past our past?’ He put forth more as a question than a statement.

‘Are you _really_ alright?’ 

‘Ron!’ she hissed. ‘I think Harry is right. We were teenagers who underwent something we never wanted or dreamed for. So was Malfoy! Remember Malfoy also saved us!’

‘'Mione! Malfoy was nothing, but an annoying pest all six years, and you forgive like that, after everything he did. That git nearly killed me! And don’t forget we saved him too!’ Ron retorted.

‘I know, I know, mate’, Harry spoke before Hermione can begin a row. ‘I’m not forgiving nor forgetting.’ 

‘Me neither’, Hermione added. 

‘But we can’t go, hex his bollocks off and be like all our lives are normal. We don’t have to make amends and become friends, but if Malfoy tries to stay low then we also can, can’t we?’ 

It took several seconds before there was an answer. ‘Yeah, I reckon we can’, Ron agreed grudgingly. ‘But, if he crosses us, we cross him. Deal?’ 

‘Deal.’ They settled with a cheery grin. However, he knew from the _Really?_ look she didn’t like the idea. 

‘Annnd, that’s my boy!’ Ron squealed in delight, which Harry returned the gesture. The witch rolled her eyes at her friends, but was happy nonetheless. 

‘So, what are we doing for the day?’ Ron asked. 

‘Nothing much’, he muttered as simultaneously Hermione exclaimed, ‘Shopping!’ 

‘Shopping?’ Ron sounded confused. 

‘Certainly shopping! Have you forgotten? School shopping. We have to buy books and robes and quills and caul—’ She didn’t get to finish the sentence as they groaned, slamming their heads on the table. 

‘'Mione. We still have a month and half to do all shit.’ Ron complained, which Harry knew was a terrible thing to say.

‘You don’t understand Ron!’ she cried, frustrated. ‘Everyone will return! There are chances for books to be stocked out! What if we can’t get it! Think Ron! Think.’ 

‘Merlin’s beard 'Mione. We'll go today alright.’ Ron said, turning to him for back up . Harry nodded eagerly. 

‘We’re going in glamours, okay?’ he insisted, remembering the nightmare of a trip last time just cause he forgot glamour. Hmph! Can’t even spend hours peacefully with someone he loves. Harry slumped at the thought he can’t have a normal, like really normal life.

‘Yeah mate. It’s all over The Prophet today.’ Ron said with a concerned smile and Hermione nodded. 

‘Yeah.’ Harry said in a sullen voice. ‘Ummm… Ron… before that, can I borrow your owl?’ He didn’t understand why he was uncertain, though knew Ron would never say no. Then why? 

‘Mate, what is it with you today? You’re very… different. I guess?’ 

‘Hah! That can happen when you’re awaken from an amazing erotic dream abou—’ 

‘No! Don’t! I don’t want to know. Believe me, I. Really. Don’t. Want. To. Know! Yes, you can have my owl all day, all night, but spare me the details.’ Ron shrieked, covering his ear, colour of his face matching his hair, and Hermione no better. 

Harry roared with laughter, ‘Ron you wanted to know what happened to me! What kind of caring friend are you? Listen what happened to me Ron! Listen!’ he put a hand over his heart sounding wounded and lurched to uncover his ears. 

‘Ron, it was ecstatic and whatnot’, Harry delighted holding Ron’s wrist who was now reciting _Lalalalalalala._

They set in a euphoric laughter, Harry reeling the previous years. He was alive after spending seven years in Hogwarts. From saving a stone to killing a megalomaniac he had survived. Surprise bitch! He still is. 

His two best friends, who had been by his side without exceptions. From, an eleven-year-old boy who didn’t even think twice about sacrificing himself on a chessboard aeons ago, so he could move forward to staying by his side to destroy horcruxes, though it was a murderous quest; was the red-haired git, his git, his best mate. 

From unearthing answers for puzzles and riddles to discovering solutions for every mischance of the hour they were in till date; was the bushy haired witch, the brightest witch of the age, his hugger. 

Harry smiled inwardly, gratitude in heart and didn’t understand what he did to receive such fierce loyalty. 

‘What?’ Hermione questioned, who caught him smiling. Harry just shook his head, still smiling. She raised an eyebrow in question, but decided to let it go and turned to Ron to continue their— bickering like an old married couple— heart to heart talks or so they called it. 

***

Draco was sitting by the window in his study with a potions book on lap, but wasn’t able to put eyes to read. Absent-mindedly he flipped and flipped the envelope in hand. Genuinely he wanted to go, but dreadfully he didn’t want to. Maybe he should just agree with his Mother. Or he could stay low, complete studies in Hogwarts and do whatever rubbish he wish.

He knew with every muscle of his body, everyone was sure to hate him once he returned. Just cause he's free doesn’t mean he's forgiven and he didn’t have the need to be forgiven by everyone. Or maybe they could, but Draco didn’t give a fig. 

Sighing, he looked up to meet the mid-day sky, watery-thin clouds drifting across the crisp azure and a glowing golden medallion aloft. It felt like energy required for a century’s thinking, was spent in just a quarter day mulling over and over whether or not to go back. 

The boy was so lost in thoughts that he neither heard the knocks on the door nor the creaking sound when opened nor the click-clack of hurried heels approaching. 

‘Draco!’ a screech filled the room making the boy jump and dropped the letter in the book. 

‘Pansy! There's something called knocking!’ he groaned. 

Pansy just rolled her eyes waving her hand for a chair. She sat stiff and had a stalling look, unsure whether or not to speak. He regarded her with a suspicious look gesturing her to spit out. Pansy, who didn’t get the signal, continued stalling him, but the corner of her eyes caught a glimpse of the envelope. On Seeing the letter, she slouched and made herself comfortable. Draco, watching her with meticulousness, got a vague notion of what was about to hit him— “We’re going!” 

‘I’ve not yet decided’, Draco said, placing the book on the table, in a blank tone before she could begin. 

‘What? Deciding? No deciding! You’re joining us!’ Draco could recognise the tacit threatening. 

‘Us?’ he blurted out and immediately wanted to hex himself for idiocy. It was so plain, wasn’t it? If he received a letter, then everyone must have. 

‘Yeah, us. It hurts me to admit that I’m about to squander another year of my precious life, listening to your drama and Blaise’s crap’, she said. Others may see only the impassive mien on her face, but Draco knew better. The words “I love spending time with you both” hidden in them. 

‘Others?’ 

‘Draco! I'm not here to play twenty questions with you, but since you asked. Theo is off to Beauxbatons, Greengrass’ too. Greg, I think is planning to move to the States. Millicent, I guess will be returning.’ 

So, half his house’s population is returning. But that didn’t mean he should also go, for none had in hand the Dark Mark. 

He did regret the Dark Mark for limitless reasons, but was grateful for a sole and solitary reason. The Greengrass’ put off the marriage because he bore the mark. Draco Malfoy was free to love and marry anyone. 

_The only barrier is no one’s going to love you._  
**_Ah! Thank you for reminding, like I didn’t know._**  
_Not like that, I meant: not many gay wizards out there._  
**_Again, thanks for the reminder._**  
_Maybe someone is and will. Who thinks, maybe even Potter will._  
[Inner Snort  
**_For your information he’s straight like a wand._**  
_You do remember Aunt Bella’s wand don’t you?_  
**_Really?_**  
_Just saying, you know._  
**_Maybe he is, but no chance of loving me._**  
_Just give a go._  
**_Not interested in getting rejected again._**  
_Try wooing him._  
**_Like he’s going to fall for it. I like your confidence though._**  
_Not with this attitude… Be careful of it._  
**_I don’t care!_**  
_You do._  
**_No I don’t!_**  
_Yes you do._  
**_No!_**  
_You’re impossible!_

A sour battle raged against his mind and heart. 

They were once again found in the study after their, as he put it— awkward silent unappetising which felt more like a luncheon than a lunch. The last time he had such a meal was the morning of his trial, worry gulping him. Now it was confusion gulping him. 

He had a choice, either go or no go, but Draco didn't want a choice now. He wanted it to be a stern “Yes, you should come back!” or “Don't dream about coming back!”. He felt like one half of himself fighting against the other. As two core choices, Hogwarts and home-school were vigorously battling, trivial choices like go to Beauxbatons, States and drop studies— engaged in buffoonery. 

Draco was pulled from stance when he heard Pansy clear her throat. ‘Draco! I can, without legilimency, frankly tell what you’re thinking. Don't you dare deny it’, she grit out. 

Before he could come with a retort an unknown owl landed in front of him in a whoop, which unlike earlier, had a rolled parchment and a package to it's leg. The owl took a seat at the windowsill as Pansy offered treats. He checked the parchment for curses and unfurled it once there seemed to be none. 

It was almost illegible according to him. The words were messy, a bit sloppy. Some letters were slanted left, some to the right and some straight. If one observes closely they could notice that even the same letters didn't look alike, but one letter was. The g’s. So perfectly crafted that made it look apart from the letter as if it was written by another person.

Dear Malfoy,  
Hope you’re good. I apologise for not returning it soon. I tried to catch up with you after the trial, but wasn’t able to. Sorry.

H. J. Potter

P. S. Expecting you. 

_What is it with the day? Unknown owls and unexpected letters!_

He replayed the memory of seeing Potter running towards something and being caught by the Ministry workers. He didn't for a knut think it was to catch up with him. Draco tossed the parchment to Pansy and saw her squint at the same places he did. 

‘Go on’, she said, gesturing the package. 

Draco knew. He knew what was in there, yet he gasped. Because in front of him, laying there in the box, wrapped in ethereal lustrous silver fabric, shimmering light only for him, was a familiar wand. The one that was snatched from him, the one he longed to get back for days, the one he thought he’d never see again. His 10 inch long, Hawthorn wood, unicorn hair core wand! It looked exactly the same as he’d seen the last time, not marred by a soil. 

His hands glided around, holding it like holding a ball of dandelion puff, so careful and delicate. He felt the magic seeping through every last artery and vein. It was just like a muscle in his hand, natural as it always existed there. His hold tightened when he sensed a bit of fluctuation, but deep in his bones he felt it's allegiance to him. 

‘Locomotor wibbly’, he breathed. The way it reacted was something he thought he could never get tired of. It was as if it had never been snatched from him. Fierce loyalty was what it presented. She shrieked, stumbled for a moment before her mind registered. 

‘Draco!’ She hissed. ‘Remember me to get you back.’ Draco smirked, rennervating her. She wobbled a second or so before coming firm. 

‘Potter’s coming.’ Draco rolled his eyes, of course he’ll be coming. 

‘Well observed.’ 

‘And expecting you’, she said, a smirk creeping her face. 

‘To either kill me or make me repay’, he replied, his voice hollow. 

It was her turn to roll eyes. ‘You’re worse than that 16th century muggle playwright’s plays.’ 

Ah! Shakespeare! Any other time Draco would’ve picked a fight for it, but something stopped him. Something said no, don’t. They sat in a comfortable silence for some minutes before Pansy chose to return home. 

For the umpteenth in a single day he lost himself to depths of mind. He knew he needed to make a decision soon and he did, with an aid from Potter’s owl. The owl from Potter had patiently waited for a reply all noon, not letting a hoot. Draco didn’t want to make it wait anymore. He wrote back.

Potter,  
I’m good. Wish you the same. Appreciate the thought of returning my wand soon. Expecting you too. 

D. Malfoy

The fact that he was not the only person in the Manor to receive owls that day was unknown to Draco.


	2. Chapter-2 : Smile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos and comments. ❤

‘It’ll be alright.’ 

Draco very much doubted that. They were walking down the platform of nine and three-quarters, Draco scooped between Pansy and Blaise. 

He fought back a strong urge to hit himself because what was he thinking when he decided to return. When he kissed his Mother goodbye she had advised him to keep his head down, but chin up. _That, he can do._ He insisted on going to King’s Cross with Pansy and Blaise and asked her to stay home, which she reluctantly agreed.

The ambience of the place was not joyous and turbulent nor grim and dead, it was something entirely different. It was tranquil. It was not an eerie silence, but the kind of silence you experience when words are heard without being spoken, feelings are felt without being expressed, emotions are seen without being revealed. 

Many in the mass had remnants of war over their faces, both in face and heart. They were not rejoicing with triumph as he expected, there were grateful, small, sad smiles; eyes at the brink of tears. The smiles being shared carried faint sombreness, the effects of war legibly written in air. There was understanding among everyone around the station.

People stood close to each other, huddled at some distance. None were found running or laughing or shouting. People moved in soft footfalls. Some students were found hugging and kissing their parents, some engaged in muffled conversations with their friend’s parents, some students were standing by themselves with longingness and some began to board the train. 

Draco felt like he’d been hit in the gut, shame and guilt filling him. The number of students he’d crucioed, so he could be safe made him feel horrible and vile. The part he played in destroying beautiful families and ruining their lives, told him he deserved Azkaban. 

People around silenced and trailed off their sentences as they caught sight of him. He was nervous something was about to happen. He heard whispers of _Death Eater trash, Filthy scum_. Sneers and scowls from both parents and students were thrown in his direction which Pansy gladly returned them. It made him feel weak being protected, he wanted to point out that he can take care of himself. 

A sudden loud noise stalled them killing the silence, his hands swiftly went for his wand, a Portego ready to roll out of tongue. They turned around to see a group of reporters jolting towards the platform. Which was none other than The Golden Trio, who were hounded. Everyone on the platform sprinted to greet The Saviour, who was trying to move past them. 

Weasley and Granger were walking with entwined hands. They both looked the same,— Weasley in his ridiculous jumper and Granger with a book; bickering, smitten. He also spotted the Weaslette, but her hand was not entwined with Potter; that piqued something in him. Potter has changed. 

For one, he was wearing clothes that actually fit him, a black leather jacket over white t-shirt paired with black trousers and half tied white trainers which made him look... hot. He must have worked out in the past days, his biceps were quite muscular. Sure Potter had gained some weight, but nonetheless he looked scrawny. Evidently, an attempt was made to tame the mop which had failed terribly. Potter carried himself with sort of grace and smoothness rather than with clumsiness as usual. 

Everything changed with the exception of those obnoxious(charming) round wire frames and the bottles green eyes glimmering like the glossiest, richest, emerald stones made by fine craftsmanship. The expression on his face was something he quite didn’t know how to put it. It was neither bright and happy nor dull and grim.

‘Ouch!’ he yowled suddenly, stumbling as a sudden bolt of pain shot through his shins before he could begin to walk. Strong arms clutched around his shoulders from falling, Blaise’s, he knew once his mind registered what had happened. He knew what it was, a stinging hex. 

‘Draco! What happened? Are you fine?’ Pansy shrieked and Blaise’s hand tightened around him. He was worried it would gather attention, but thank Merlin and Morgana people didn’t even flinch or shoot an eye. It disturbed him to be ignored but some part was happy about it. He glanced around to find who it was, but was unsuccessful. 

‘Just sprained my ankle’, he lied and wandlessly numbed his pain. He didn’t want to lie, but that felt necessary for he was sure if he told them the truth they would rage. Pansy gave him a stern look and Blaise raised an eyebrow in question clearly stating they didn’t believe him. He loved his friends, he really did, but at the same time he didn’t want to make a scene before even stepping into the train. He sighed. 

‘Come on, the train's about to leave.’ He began to walk not waiting for an answer or for a question, he made it to the train without further hexes. 

A sudden push, he tripped, hitting his face on the train windows. ‘Death Eater scum’, a Ravenclaw girl snarled, strode past them. Immediately his hand went to grip Pansy and Blaise to stop them from moving, he shook his head. 

‘Draco! Let go! She can’t treat you like that!’ Pansy hissed, trying to make herself free. 

‘She’s right Draco. You can’t let them treat you like that.’ Blaise said calmly, unlike Pansy.

‘You’re a moron!’ She bellowed, fury red in her eyes. 

He sighed. ‘We’ll go and find a compartment’, he said, tugging them. He paused when he passed Potter’s compartment. Potter was sitting by the window, Weasley and Granger curled up next to him; opposite, Longbottom was by the window staring at the platform, Weaslette was in an animated conversation with Lovegood. 

The same compartment, years ago, he entered with a hand for friendship and was returned with _“I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks.”_ It took him years to get over the rejection which he eventually did. But still, a pang of jealousy rose in him; what it would be to be Potter’s friend, to be a part of his little group. He was not ungrateful for his friends, it’s just… it would’ve been nice to be Potter’s friend. 

For a split-second, Potter met his gaze, the green ones studied him. He thought he was in a dream, Potter smiled. His gaze froze over the smile because it was not a smirk, not a it’s-my-time smile, it was a sincere welcoming smile, and he began to talk with Longbottom. A flush crept upon his neck and ear tips tinged pink. None in the compartment seemed to have noticed the silent conversation. He forced himself to move, his eyes never leaving Potter, with a smile. 

They found a compartment almost at the end of the train. Draco and Blaise took the windows much to Pansy’s annoyance. She glared at them and let her head fall on Blaise’s lap. They look good together, he had always thought Pansy and Blaise would do well together as a couple. 

‘You good there?’ Blaise asked, who must have noticed his change of expression. 

‘Yes’, he returned promptly, but the smile on face still. His friends crystally knew he was hiding something, but didn’t voice it out.

The entire ride he talked randomly, answering and quipping at necessary places. To Draco it felt like just minutes when they reached Hogesmade, but it was hours. He could vaguely see the castle through the window, it had been rebuilt, some places were yet to be done. The Astronomy tower needed some more work to do, but more or less it was to its former glory. 

The castle towers were hidden behind the soft grey evening clouds; amidst the small, scattered shining stars, the castle beamed. It looked… heavenly, a sight that even the strongest obliviation could not obliviate. He took a moment to savor it. 

He saw grey, scrawny horse-like creatures pulling the carts. His heart began to race fast like it was going to fall out any moment. _Thestrals. He was able to see thestrals._ It was not supposed to be much of a shock because after sharing home with The Dark Lord, of course, he could see thestrals. The thing was, he didn’t know whose death it was. He turned around to see his friends, Pansy nodded with a haunted face and Blaise nodded with a shrug. _Ah!_ Blaise had been seeing them from a young age. 

The three of them took a thestral, he saw Potter taking one with Weasley, Granger and the Weaslette. It hurt him somewhere, he turned immediately and the cart pulled.

***

_“It's beautiful, isn't it? I'll never forget the first time I walked through those doors. It will be nice to do it again as a free man.”_

Harry stood gaping at the massive doors. He knew what Sirius meant back then, but now he understood what it was. It really was nice to walk through those doors as a free man, not much responsibility, no need to walk towards death, no running for life, no more drama; a good, peaceful year. The sole responsibility on his shoulders at present was to complete his N.E.W.Ts and he was sure there won’t be an addition. 

The castle was _bloody beautiful_. He always knew it was beautiful, but now it was a different beautiful. It was nothing like the last time he’d seen it, —broken walls, shattered windows, blood spilled floor— it was striking. 

Harry didn’t realise he was gaping like a fish until Ron clapped him in his shoulder, Hermione gave a smile which he returned. ‘Well come on, mate’, Ron said. Harry nodded.

It was nostalgic if he’s honest. Just like his first year, where everything seemed new and questioning. He can never forget the first time he’d walked through them. He’d wasted hours thinking it was a wrong decision to come back to Hogwarts, but no, he needed this. He didn’t realise he needed it so much until he took a foot to move. It was comfort and home. 

He was hit by strong wards, new, but strong nonetheless. _Ah!_ The old wards must’ve been destroyed during the battle. He could sense the strong magic of the professors. 

The ceiling was charmed like a fairy tale night. Thousands of candles swaying slowly, flame flickering on and off, the rich dark blue clouds reflecting the lights emitted from the candle, the four long house tables half-filled with students with goblets and plates, the house ghosts shining misty silver. It really was _bloody beautiful._ They took a seat at the Gryffindor table, Ron and Hermione opposite to him. The first years walked the same way as he walked,— gaping like a fish— he smiled. 

At the high table Professor McGonagall took the Headmistress chair, there was Slughorn, Flitwick, Sprout, Hagrid, Hooch and two more people he didn’t recognise. One was a pale skin, short, lean woman, her black hair a high tight bun, square glasses, grape colour robes with silver buttons and a gracious smile. The other woman was quite muscular, maybe two or three inches taller than him, slightly tanned, some scars in her neck and face. She was in brisk red coloured robes, sandy blonde hair in a ponytail. He turned to his friends asking whether they knew who they were. Ron shrugged and Hermione shook her head and eyed him to listen. 

The sorting hat sung on unity, friendship; a song really needed after a war. It was Professor McGonagall who placed the hat on the first years. Once the sorting ended she climbed to the Owl Podium for a moment, he thought her eyes were tearing up, but she cleared her throat and began to speak. 

‘Welcome!’ her thick Scottish accent not marred by anything. ‘Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts. Now let the feast begin.’ 

Piles of food and pumpkin juice filled the plates and goblets. He grinned at Ron and they began to devour the food, Hermione rolled her eyes, but there was a glint of amusement in her eyes. 

‘Bloody Brilliant!’ Ron exclaimed, as always the elves had outdone the food. 

The desserts appeared once the main course was over. _Treacle Tart!_ Harry’s mind was pleased to no extent because there was treacle tart! It’s not like he hadn’t eaten it in the past days, but Hogwarts’ treacle tart was the best as per him. He nearly filled his plate with it, smiling. 

As the feast got over Professor McGonagall rose to the podium once again. ‘The Defence Against Dark Arts post will be handled by Professor Redwood’, she said motioning towards the sandy blonde woman. ‘And Professor Nora will be handling Astronomy. 

‘Now just a few more words, I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils.’ Her eyes for a moment caught Harry’s. 

‘I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. 

‘Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their House teams should contact Madam Hooch.

‘Now as for the eighth year students, you will follow me.’ 

_Follow her? But where?_ He saw the same confusion on Ron and Hermione. All the eighth year students rose to their feet. 

***

‘You eighth years, will be sharing the same common room. Dorms will be shared with different house students. You will find your schedule and dorm mates there.’ She pointed to the wall where two lists hung. ‘Welcome back’, she said smiling, a small clipped smile, her voice softening from the authoritative tone. With that she walked out. 

_Salazar’s saggy balls!_ He really should’ve expected this. Why in Salazar’s name should all eighth years be put together? He honestly didn’t want to share a common room, especially not with the Golden Trio. God! He can no longer even spend time in the common room without whispers and looks. 

People walked to the list and murmurs softly began. He, Pansy and Blaise didn’t move to look for it, he thought it would be better to see after everyone has moved. He saw Potter and Weasley, grinning and jumping— of course, they must be together. He wanted a distraction to avoid staring at Potter and that’s how he took a look around. 

The room was painted in soft grey colour and Hogwarts emblem painted in one wall. There were lilac colour love seats and settees by the fire. The room was cosy and welcoming, not cold like the Slytherin common room.

Once he completed the journey, he began to see who had returned. Not many actually. He saw Finnigan and Thomas,— standing unnecessarily close— Abbott, the Patil twins. _That’s it? Only twelve?_ He didn’t understand why many didn’t return. And to make matters worse, no boys, other than Blaise and the Gryffindorks. He was hecking sure it surely will be with a Gryffindork. _Great! Just Great!_ He groaned internally. He heard Potter and Weasley racing to the boys’ dorms and many dispersed. 

He began to walk anxiously because fuck he knew it was with a Gryffindork, but what if it’s Potter or Weasley. Longbottom, maybe he could manage, Finnigan or Thomas would be no issues. 

_What the fuck?_ The moment his eyes found his name he wanted to jump out of the windows and run. Why is it always _Saint Potter?_ He, by Merlin’s name, didn’t want to share a dorm with _Potter_ and _Weasley._ He wanted to live and live peacefully. _Amen to that!_ He’s going to die either due to humiliation or he’s going to be killed in sleep. 

He turned to Blaise, who was at least not loathing like he did. ‘Longbottom, Finnigan and Thomas’, he said coldly. Of course, the remaining three. _Salazar’s bollocks, is there a way to change dorms?_ He really can live with them, definitely not peacefully, but he can live. 

He then looked at Pansy who had a sullen look and the same loathing as he had. ‘Granger and Patil’, she clicked her tongue. That is far far far better than him. 

‘Potter and Weasley’, he gritted out. Pansy snickered and Blaise was biting his lip, trying to control his laughter. 

‘Do go on. Continue your laughter. Don’t let me stop you.’ They doubled over laughing, Pansy’s eyes almost tearing up. He very badly wanted to strangle them and hang them upside down. He glared at them, because _he didn’t have enemies outside, he had been with them all years._

‘Sorry. Sorry’, Blaise said, still laughing. 

‘Someone’s never going to have a peaceful crush wank again’, Pansy muttered. 

‘Pansy! Shut it!’ he shrieked. They began laughing even more, clutching their stomachs. _Ha! Very funny!_ He was happy everyone had decided to retire for the day and that left them alone. 

‘Oh Draco! It’ll be okay’, Pansy said, which earned daggers. They were nearly shaking with laughter, hands on their knees, holding each other for balance. 

‘Right. Right’, she said, her ears and cheeks flushed with laughter. She was trying real hard not to laugh again. ‘Enough of that. Poor Draco. We’ll go to bed now. Okay?’ He turned to storm out of the room when Pansy yelled, ‘We need details. Goodnight.’ Killing them is never going to be a crime. 

His hands barely touched the knob, he heard a fight going on inside. 

‘—mine’, he heard Weasley. 

‘No, mine!’ Potter squealed. 

‘Bloody hell yours. I claim it!’ 

‘Like I’d leave you!’ 

‘Yeah, fight me Harry.’ 

‘You’re in hopes I won’t do it.’ Potter said. _Remind me again, why am I here?_ He thought. He didn’t know whether to get in now or after the fight subdued. 

‘I’m your _best friend_ Ron.’ Potter’s voice was hurt which did something in his heart. And that was why he turned the knob and opened the door just by crack which Potter and Weasley didn’t notice. They were on the verge of catching each other’s collar and he didn’t know what they were fighting for so early. 

He pushed open the door full, Potter and Weasley stunned for a second and continuing their bickering. Draco walked to the green curtain bed, sat in the corner, watching them argue. 

‘Ron! I came first, so I get to decide.’ 

‘You never mentioned it before we took off.’ 

‘But now I’ve said it!’ They were just speaking up and down, not giving a mind he’s there. _What really is their problem!_ Five minutes and still they haven’t shut up, he wanted to hit them with a Langlock. 

‘You in that bed Ron and I near the window.’ Potter grinned and Weasley scowled, making Potter grin wider ear to ear. _Are they really mental! What is there in a bed near WINDOW?_ Potter jumped to his bed, Weasley groaned, throwing his hands up. 

Draco did his night toilette, changed his pyjamas and locked his curtains. He didn’t know if he should put up a silencing charm or not, but decided to. When he drifted to sleep he didn’t hear their sound anymore.


	3. Chapter-3 : Fuck The Prophet!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is mostly monologue and Draco doesn't know a lot, so it's just his way of seeing things. And at last I always feel — before Draco— Harry would always speak about his love interests or ask advices or open up easily to Ron than anyone else. I don't know if many will like this chapter but I really didn't have a mood to write this time, I was not bored. I've mentioned the reasons below. And that's why I was not able to type or edit or think, it was a caught up month!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I just wanted to say sorry, because I'm embarrassingly late. Some big moments and really bad moments took place. Oh god and there were exams. And adding to that loads and loads of assignments. I have a need to find if they want to really give assignments or they are like oh my God, students must be free I should assign something. But don't lash out on me. October month was a mess First I came out as bisexual to my family and they were like whooaahh— in the nicest way. They were very supportive especially my cousin brother — we are a joint family, a very big family indeed with everyone very close by, and nearly 17 people live in our home. He sewed me a bisexual flag, like a small badge and attached it to a dress, which was very cute and considering. They had bisexual flags decorations all around my room— kind of embarrassing really— but they actually didn’t know how to express and react and they were in the thought this method is to show their supportiveness and I was bloody happy for it. Second my boyfriend kind of proposed me, not for a wedding, but like a promise ring. Again my family made a huge party like event, my cousins literally out did it. It was amazing very much. For both the days I had my school friends—11 of them— with me by my side. They knew about my sexuality before, so it was nice, comforting and loving actually. Those were moments of my life. And to the sad part, here we come. I'm very afraid of millipedes, centipedes, caterpillars, literally anything in the form of worm. I'm very much afraid of it from my young age, so mostly I don't do gardening or stuff in garden because I fear suddenly it can pop out and come. I tried to overcome it, but every attempt was a nasty failure for me. So my entire family and school friends knows about this and are really supportive. They told me it was Okay to have fears and if you don't want to overcome it then don't, if you want to try and overcome it we are here to help. So after those two or three attempts I didn't try to overcome it and avoided going near them. Because every time some incident occurred with it I was having nightmares for days, like it's swallowing me entirely or killing me or ripping me. So I very much avoided it. So this month I was spending my time with some of my friends in my street and there came a situation for me to freak out after seeing a caterpillar and I went home after it. So the next day when I went there again I don't know what they thought, they thought it was funny to throw some millipedes at me. I cried and yelled and ran home. I didn't tell it to my brothers or my friends because they are very protective of me and if I am to tell I know for sure they'd make an issue over it. I didn't want it to happen. And I'm having nightmares for it till date, and they are very scary making me gasp and sob silently at night without anyone knowing. It's very hard for me. Though the first two incidents make me happy and loved this one makes me unloved. Maybe for some it's a laughing material, but it's hard, very hard for me. No one had done that to me and I don't know if this is even an issue, but I felt like sharing it. So if you see someone doing this to someone else, please go forward to stop it. I think it's Okay to have fears. I kind of got myself locked for the last ten days, didn't do anything productive, didn't eat much, because I didn't feel the need for it after that day. I just don't know why.

_No no no, it can't happen, it's not possible._

Draco bolted upright, gasping, skin trembling, lips quavering, hair damp, sweats pooling at his nape, pyjamas drenched in sweat buckets; his breathing, ragged and shaky. 

He tried to calm himself, taking in slow, steady, short breaths, but couldn't. It hurt. It hurt everywhere to breathe; his lungs couldn't take in air nor let out. Every inhalation felt elusive, every muscle around his lungs stung; his heart clenched and made it impossible to draw air. 

He needed air, he needed to get out of bed— which grew more and more packed— and run out, but he couldn’t move. His body was limp and stiff; simultaneously. He put his hand over his heart, trying to soothe the heartbeat which went faster than normal: _tap tap tap tap,_ in irregular beats. 

After some painful heartfelt attempts he achieved a little calmness and the _tap tap tap_ quite soothed. He brought his knees closer, resting his face on them whilst some drops began welling up in his eyes which he let to flow; grateful for the curtains and silencing charm. He sobbed slowly in his own knees, smudging his pyjamas, drop by drop. 

The physical pain of course quelled— not much, but ok-, but the pain in his heart was inexorable. None, absolutely none to calm him down, it was lonelier than it was at the Manor— Manor lonely was lonely lonely, but here it was people lonely. Then again he can’t go to Potter and ask _“Potter just hold me”_ or he can’t ask Weasley to spend some time with him. _Oh Salazar, he’ll die of embarrassment the next day!_

He can wake Pansy, but not without the notice of Granger— which he was not going to choose, if it’s that or jumping out of the windows from the highest tower— nor Blaise without Longbottom noticing— which was worse than dying by the giant squid. No, he’s not going to do either of it and poster that he, Draco Malfoy, is being hunted by demons and needs to be held. 

A nightmare, a nasty nightmare! _The Dark Lord’s gone, he’s dead, you’re safe,_ he kept on chanting inwardly to achieve a bit more quietude, but it just made him cry harder (you see, he was the synonym for pure patheticity these days).

He knew he wasn’t and can’t be normal after sharing home with The Dark Lord; but he didn’t expect to become a _freak!_ Because it would be silly for a normal person to be frightened of the Dark Lord after he’s gone. But Draco had become a freak, he’s not and never going to be normal again. 

If he was normal he wouldn’t hear Greyback’s howls, Aunt Bella’s cackles, Nagini’s hiss, the cruciated’s wails. There should be no nightmares of him crucioing and being crucioed, of the pleases, of all Dark spells. He still can’t be having nightmares of his Mother dying, his Father dying,— not that he liked him much, but still— him dying. 

He wanted to forget everything, like everything; and everytime he wished for it, it came flashing in front of his eyes; the night at Astronomy tower, nights spent in the Room of Requirement, the Vanishing Cabinet, the snakes roaring from fiendfyre, Crabbe’s de—. _Stop! Just stop!_ He didn’t know who he was asking, but he begged it to stop. His already stained cheeks were washed and stained by the new tears that flowed. More scenes just came flooding into him; The Death Eater meetings, the cries in the dungeons, the shrieks of the elves; it didn’t have a look to stop and neither did his eyes. 

_Please, let me go!_ Leave me! He sobbed, groaning. It was so pathetic and puerile to be soaking in a colossal woe and sufferance at the caliginous time of night. His Father would’ve been disgusted to see his son, a Malfoy, bawling out his eyes because he’d had a nightmare; but Draco couldn’t help it. Of course today’s pain was nothing compared to 3rd August, but it was painful nonetheless. Tears just flowed freely.

 ** _Not even a day, and you’re having nightmares! And crying._** It was like his Father’s voice. A disgrace to the Malfoy name. It hurt to hear it said by his Father. The Malfoy name meant a lot to him and it hurt to think he is a disgrace to it. ** _It’s because of you the family name is ruined._**  
 _No, it was your mistake!_  
 ** _Sugarcoat it all you want. But it was yours._**  
 _Perhaps a lot, but taking The Dark Mark was not mine._  
 ** _Draco, how is it not yours?_**  
 _It was because of you I did it!_  
 ** _Really? If you hated it that much why is it I never saw you refusing._**  
 _You knew I didn’t have a choice!_  
 ** _And we both knew it’s a lie. You could’ve refused it._**

And for that Draco didn’t have an answer. He could have refused it, but he didn’t; not because he wanted it, it was because he was scared to say no. The voice within accused and spoke all his mistakes. _Disgrace, blood traitor, —._ His body shook along when he shook off the voice. 

He wanted to go to his Mother, lie in her lap and weep,— the last time he had lain on his Mother’s lap was after taking The Dark Mark— like he used to do when he was a child, fighting nightmares with her. _Ah! Childhood days!_ Really awesome days! Days when his Father would take him flying, Mother would spoil him rotten with sweets, days playing around the Manor with Pansy and Theo. Days when his worst nightmare was to be swallowed by a chimera; and deep within he knew it’s never going to happen again;— innocence— it was childish to want it, but it would be nice. 

Or Perhaps he could have his green with silver stuffed dragon Oberonis— which his father had thrown away when he was seven stating Malfoy’s don’t sleep with toys. It was a good comfort when his Mother couldn’t make herself available. In his nightmares, Oberonins will be in armours and a shield; and fight with the chimera. It would have him in its back, fly across the sky and put him to sleep. Perhaps these days he knew protective and shield spells; and can protect himself, but there was no one to put him to sleep. If only. 

Draco knew the nightmare’s not going to stop anytime soon, and he had classes the next day. He opened his curtains and tip-toed to his trunk, not making the slightest noise. He clicked open the trunk, accioed it, and twirled the glass vial. He knew it was not ok to take it nearly all days in a week, but it was his only hope; he gulped it in a take and walked back to his bed, sealed the curtains and didn’t see the need for a silencing charm. The last thing Draco felt was the fluttering of his eyes, the effect of Dreamless sleep. 

When Draco woke up, there was literally a voice battle going on, Potter and Weasley! Fuck! He cursed for not putting up the Silencing charms. It couldn’t be more than half past six. _Salazar’s ruddy balls_ , what really is the need for them to fight at this hour in the morning! 

The bickering surged his already visited headache;— from bawling his eyes out for hours at night— a potion to take. _Won’t they shut up!_ It took some monstrous amount of self-restraint to suppress the urge to either tongue-tie or petrify them. 

‘No I use it first’ _Right, so they’re fighting for the bathroom. What loads of rubbish._ ‘Ron! You take nearly twenty minutes to bath.’ _Correct Potter, for the first time in your entire oblivious life! Huh! Twenty minutes and to get filthy._ _Yes, Weasley doesn’t need that long._

‘We have classes at nine! So no, I’m going first, then you. You will bath soon if you know you’re late.’ _Oops! Potter had meant that!_

‘Mate! From when did you care about going to class on time’ _Yes, that would be right._ _Oh! The Boy Wonder and his best mate can go to classes at any time they please._ ‘And it’s called enjoying your “Me hours”’, Weasley said, Draco could literally see that self-satisfied smile on Weasley’s face. _But hey, Weasley knows about “Me hours” which he didn’t expect Weasley to have! It was difficult to admit that he agrees with Weasley._

‘Oh! Maybe from the day you wanted to go to school, not to mention I’m not interested in being turned into a pocket watch; and mate, call it “Wank hours'' perhaps.’ _What the fuck?! He knew he would’ve choked if he’d been eating._

But wait! Did they two forget they are sharing a room with another person, because from the time he’d had woken up he didn’t hear his name being said. 

‘Oh, right mate. Why to ruin your happiness.’ What Weasley did was something Draco didn’t expect to come. Weasley was making ungodly sinful moans. _What the actual heck?_ He _didn’t want_ the mental image of Weasley wanking. 

‘Stop it, Ron! Shut it!’ Potter squealed. ‘But you’re not going first!’ Potter stated. Not again! _Right, let them fight— or bicker— all they want, he is not going to let Weasley or Potter first._

When Draco opened his curtains he noticed Potter and Weasley lunging for each other;— either throat or face— they stopped halfway when they saw him. He saw realisation striking Potter like _ohmygod-we-have-a-roommate-face_ and an _Oops_ face in Weasley. Draco straightened his pyjamas and walked to the bathroom without a word; but he could feel the piercing gaze of Potter on him and Weasley shrugging. 

Draco looked in the mirror to find his hair dishevelled, small black bags which stood contrasting to his pale skin under his eyes, crumpled pyjamas. A mess is what the mirror showed. So it’s going to be like this in the forthcoming days. _Freak._

Thirty minutes later when he exited the bathroom,— in a towel around his waist and a loose full sleeve shirt; of course he’s not going to go half-naked in front of Weasley and Potter with something ugly in his hand— he found Potter and Weasley in Potter’s bed; Potter’s hand counting five fingers and Weasley’s counting two. It looked quite weird. _Perhaps Potter must have lost his brains, Weasley never had one; so yeah._ He saw them having an eye conversation, and Weasley walked to the bathroom. Draco raised an eyebrow at Potter, who just shook his head slightly and turned away. _Hmph! At least he’s left with some manners._

He got dressed, gelled his hair back, all in fifteen minutes,— Weasley still hadn’t returned and Potter was reading some muggle ridicule— a record indeed. It was just half past seven, too early to go to breakfast, but he didn’t want to spend any more time there. 

He glanced back to find Potter still reading, _he’s never going to turn his attention to you._ It was true, he knew it all along, but it hurt— not that he was not used to it, after seven years he was adapted to it. But since Potter spoke for him and the letter, he hoped, maybe they could become friends, but that was just his mind. Potter spoke only out of pity, which he resented. 

With a shake to his head, he walked to the common room to find Pansy and Blaise already there. It must have been a shock— to find Pansy who would wake up only around eight, to be dressed from top to toe; Blaise however was a morning person— but he wouldn’t be ready this early. He wanted to ask if they are normal, but he knew better than to voice it and not when he was ready this early, which is not usual for him. 

It was just so crystal that their dormmates didn’t want to have them more than long;— not that they wanted it either— because who would want to share dorms with Slytherins apart from Slytherins. 

Especially when one had been a Death eater, one had tried to hand over The _O’ Saviour_ to The Dark Lord and the other… well Blaise because he was a Slytherin and hate for him was due to the stereotype “All Slytherins are evil!” And that was just the worst thing because no one really tried to understand what it was to be a Slytherin and who they really were; and it’s no use wasting time over them. 

‘So, how was it?’ Pansy spoke as they exited the common room. ‘Well mine wasn’t bad, not good either, Patil seemed fine, Granger and I didn’t share a glance.’ Pansy said before he could get a word out, but that was predicted. 

He turned to Blaise, raising an eyebrow, who shrugged. ‘Didn’t speak with anyone and none spoke, but I have a feeling it’s just going to be like that this year. And I have a very raging doubt whether there are any more brain cells left,’ he said. 

‘Now, now, we don’t want to miss our darling’s time with his crush!’ Pansy smirked. Sometimes he really wondered what would happen if he just killed her. 

‘Pansy! We made a deal not to talk about my crush and especially not in the common room.’ Pansy and Blaise snickered, rolling their eyes. 

‘Same here. Last night, they were fighting for a fucking bed near the window. And today, you know what they were fighting for? They fought for who is using the bathroom first!’ 

‘Must be a Gryffindor trait, Thomas and Finnigan were fighting over the bed. Longbottom seems really quiet.’ 

‘Well he is’, Pansy piped in. Draco nodded in acknowledgement, absentmindedly. Because when they entered the Great Hall it quietened immediately, not even a single whisper or murmur passed, and everyone was looking at them. _Alright that’s fucked up!_ Two options popped up in his mind: Either they must have noticed me only now,— 1% of it agreed to this—or some real shit happened or is going on—99% of his brain went with this. 

They glanced at each other silently making their way to the Slytherin table— _thank Salazar not a shared table!_ He still felt all eyes just boring his skull as he unrolled The Prophet, Lacerta had dropped. 

Not here again. He saw an image of the Golden Trio from yesterday in the station.

**The Saviour returning to School**

The headline went. Draco knew what would be in the article; Potter this, Saviour that, The Boy Who Lived here… _blah blah blah._ He was interested in knowing about Potter, but the news The Prophet published was nosy and creepy. Ugh! Isn‘t it something like what? Invasion of Privacy, huh, Potter could just stop these by a solicitor. But he’s Potter for Salazar’s sake! Of course that git would love to have his photos all over The Wizarding World. 

It was when his eyes caught a photo of blonde hair similar to his. _Okay calm down, calm down. But what the fuck?_ It was a picture of him, Pansy and Blaise from the station.

**Is the Sch—**

‘Hey!’ Blaise snatched the paper from him. 

‘Give it back!’ 

‘No! You’re not going to read that shit!’ 

‘Blaise! Be it shit, but it is my shit and I get to know it. Just give it back!’ 

‘Dray, leave it’, Pansy countered, he heard a mix of pity, annoyance and loads of anger in it; which he completely ignored. 

‘Oww! You clotpole’, Blaise shrieked, dropping the paper and snatched it away. He didn’t want to throw a stinging hex at Blaise, but he needed to know what was in there— oh, and he was glad none noticed. He read despite Blaise’s groans.

**Is the School safe?**

Why the fuck will it not be?

_Is Hogwarts safe? It’s been four months since the demise of The Dark Lord, all the remaining Death Eaters who survived the battle were arrested and were to spend their lifetime in Azkaban, except for one. Draco Malfoy, the Malfoy heir; who was released on the words of The Saviour himself,— while his Father is spending his time in Azkaban— despite his crimes and associations— not to stress the fact they were rivals. Mr Malfoy was known to be one of the Death Eaters in the inner circle of The Dark Lord and known to have major involvements in Dumbledore’s death. The very same Mr Malfoy and his friends are to return to Hogwarts for the coming year to complete their final year along with The Saviour (A photo of Mr Malfoy, Mr Zabini and Ms Parkinson, from The King’s Cross). Chances are likely for a covert operation to take place to attack the School or to harm The Saviour. Parents are worried for their children’s safety and the Saviour’s, as will there be another Death eater attack. Are students safe at Hogwarts due to his return? Is it right to let someone dangerous again? Is the Headmistress in her right mind to allow an Ex-Death eater among other students including the Saviour? Will there be a rise of another Dark Lord?  
_

_For more read Rita Skeeter._

Okay. Should not have read that! He lifted his head to see some students looking at him and turned to Pansy and Blaise, who had a worried expression on their faces. Pansy reached for the paper and crumpled it with indignation. 

‘Come on Draco, she’s a bitch and we know that’, she said. Draco sighed, nodding his head slowly. He glanced at the High Table and saw Professor McGonagall looking at him through the corner of her eyes. He groaned internally, he shouldn’t have come back, he knew all of this would happen and still returned. _You never learn from the past, do you?_

One day here and he had got hexed, shared a dorm with Potter and Weasley— and was alive—, had disgusted looks from everyone, had a heart wrenching nightmare, been throwed insults, had an article about him in The Prophet. _Awesome! Great! Karma did its job perfectly!_

Distraitly he munched on his breakfast, face cold and neutral as always. One would say his looks were like everything was normal and there was not an article about him— because that’s how Malfoys are supposed to be and he pulled off the look brilliantly. But there was pain within his heart which no one needed to know; he sealed all his emotions and feelings at the back of his head, because he’s there only for the NEWTs and will never turn here again. So all he needed to do was adjust for a year, focus on studies, get good results in NEWTs and leave the place immediately. Just studies, no drama nor fun. 

They had Transfiguration the first hour which meant sharing class with all eighth years— the thing is, since only less pupils returned all core subjects are to be combined. And this meant the only peaceful hour was Ancient Runes, because none in the eighth year had taken An—. _Salazar’s hairy balls!_ Granger would be there! _Ugh!_ No! Just no! Of course, there’d be other students from seventh years, but from eighth year it’s only him and Granger. He can’t be alone with Granger and walk out alive after everything. Okay, so death in the Ancient Runes classroom. _Alright Draco that’s dramatic._

***

‘Bloody hell!’ Ron said. It really was bloody hell. When he, Ron and Hermione entered The Great Hall nearly half the school surrounded them to get autographs and photos.

Every time he saw a younger year student jumping enthusiastically, pain began swirling in his heart; it reminded him of Colin Creevey. A small boy so happy, animated, following him for a photograph, tried to take a photo even when he was injured— innocence—; and till his death Harry never willingly posed for a photo for that young lad. And all he was able to do was give Colin his photo at his funeral, maybe, just maybe Colin would forgive him. 

All through the years it would have taken, what, a minute to pose for a photo; which he didn’t do. At that age he didn’t want the admiration and praise,—he still doesn’t— but for someone else it was like a life wish. Colin had always admired him— which he didn’t deserve,— but for the boy’s sake he could have done it. _Never made anyone happy nor fulfilled their wishes, did you?_

It was Colin’s death that said to fulfill others’ wishes, small things which he could do, not take them to dates or anything, but he can fulfill a young girl’s enthusiasm to get an autograph or a young lad’s verve to get a photo, but not to this media— because we never know what happens the next minute, do we? _Forgive me Colin. I’d never do that again to another person._ He blinked back the tears that were to flow. 

‘Mate, you good there?’ He didn’t realise he’d zoned out until Ron clapped his shoulders. 

‘Ye—Yes. Good.’ 

‘You sure Harry? You were a bit out’, Hermione asked, hesitantly worried. 

See this was the entire problem; everyone was afraid to speak to him— not in the bad way— like he was made of glass; and would break if not been careful. He hated it. He’s a murderer, be it killing a good person or an evil person, it’s still murder, isn‘t it? And here people are pitiying him, including his friends, which he definitely didn’t need! 

‘Yes. No. I mean yes, I'm al— alright.’ 

He saw Ginny and Luna huddled together at the table. He really was happy for Gin, till date they remain good friends. It was nice to see her with someone who loved her. Luna smiled brightly when they approached the table, Ginny waved to them. 

‘Hullo Harry.’ Luna’s gloomy voice as always. It was nice to be treated normally. 

‘Hey Luna. Morning Gin’, he greeted. ‘Morning Harry.’ 

‘You look lugubrious Harry.’ 

‘What’s lu—’ Ron began. 

‘Must be the Nargles. Try to get off with it’, she cut in and continued with her pudding. Sometimes he really got confused if Luna was talking about the Nargles or the problem. 

‘So enjoyed last night, huh?’ 

‘Nooo.’ Ron whined. ‘Sharing dorm with Malfoy!’ 

‘Oh Ron! I didn’t hear about it.’ Sarcasm just flowed from her lips. 

‘What? So soon?’ 

‘More than half the school knows brother!’ Ron went silent muttering something about Gossip mill. 

Ron pushed The Prophet to him, where he saw a photo of him, Ron and 'Mione and below it there was a photo of Malfoy, Parkinson and Zabini. Rather than reading the news about him, he went for the news about Malfoy. 

What loads of rubbish does she even write! He turned to the Slytherin table; Malfoy was nowhere to be seen. It must be devastating to read something like this about own self, he knew how it’d feel. Harry wished he could speak to Malfoy, at least call a truce or something like that, something comfortable enough. He sighed, no use over it. 

They were a minute late to Transfiguration despite Hermione’s grumbles. It’s all because of the elves! Food that can’t be missed! It was sad because there was no treacle tart, but no less. It was just brilliant. 

Professor McGonagall fixed them with a stern glare at the door. ‘Twenty points from Gryffindor. _Each_. Mr Potter, Mr Weasley don’t make me reconsider the pocket watch.’ 

Ron and him shared an amused grin. Godric! That was in first year. They looked at Hermione who was all flushed, she was burning them with her eyes and grumbling. 

Since they were late only the last desks were free; and Harry and Ron were more than happy for a last bench,— Hermione took a seat across them— except that meant sitting behind Malfoy! But that’s alright. They can be like the other didn’t exist. 

Ron passed him a parchment when Professor McGonagall turned to the board; which read, _Mate!!! We are the first to lose points for Gryffindor this year too!!!_ Next to it was a doodle of proud faces— his and Ron’s. _Yup!_ He wrote, doodling a grinning face, for which he received a face grin. 

They were passing parchments for quite some time— taking notes was on one side— receiving a glare From ’Mione everytime— they can’t risk talking in Professor McGonagall’s class! 

As they left class they saw a merry twinkle on Professor McGonagall’s face. 

***

 _Whoosh…_ The soft zephyr swooshed his hair dishevelling it slightly, the only sounds were the susurrous rustles of the leaf and ripples sound. He was sitting at the edge of The Black Lake— of course with mud repelling charm. It was somewhat minutes past lunch, but he didn’t cast a tempus to check it. 

It was here Draco spent more time last year, escaping when he couldn’t bear the sounds of wails and pleas. It was soothing and alone in there, not many came here. Today he was here once again to escape the noise of the castle. He could’ve gone to his dorm, but like him Potter and Weasley didn’t take History of Magic, Pansy and Blaise were in Arithmancy which left him alone here. 

He placed his chin on the knees, looking over the lake. His mind was calm, not a thought ran across, he was not thinking about anything; it was just blank. But to him it was calm before the storm. 

Some minutes or seconds later— he didn’t know— he heard footfalls. Towards _him!_ It can’t be Pansy or Blaise, so… someone to beat his shit up. _Brilliant!_ He turned to see who it was and was not surprised to find Potter. But Potter was not approaching him; he was walking to the other side of the trees— a row of trees and bushes hid him from Potter’s view. 

He saw Potter lain down on the floor, not even casting a charm. _Uncultured swine._ He wanted to leave before Potter noticed, but also wanted to enjoy the silence and he went on with the latter. As long as they didn’t know the other was there, there can be no issues. And so Draco went back to look at the glossy water whilst Potter stared at the sky. Okay, maybe it was nice too. 

Not even five minutes he heard footfalls again, and it was Weasley this time. Of course Potter and his sidekick are package deals, without the other, the other wouldn’t exist. 

_‘Hey Mate’,_ Weasley said. _‘Whatcha doing here?’_

 _‘Hey. Nothing, just… sulking?’_ Something was off about Potter’s voice. It missed the cheeriness in it; and it hurt Draco somewhere, which he ignored. 

_‘Something wrong, mate?’_ Weasley asked plopping next to Potter. What a blatant question! Of course something’s wrong. He knew it’d be written all over Potter’s face that he’s not alright, and still Weasley is asking that question. 

He wanted to leave because it was creepy to listen to someone else talk. No! Why should he leave, he came here first. If it’s to leave it should be them. 

_‘No. No, I— I’m good’_ , he heard Potter say, which was a lie. So what’s wrong with Potter? 

_‘You know you can talk to me, right mate.’_

_‘Of course, yeah!’_ Potter said strongly. 

They were quiet for quite sometime before Weasley decided to break the silence. _‘Still not over Gin?’_ Wait! So Potter and the Weaslette are not together? How? How? How? How did they break up? When did this happen? Was it in The Prophet? Wait! He shouldn’t listen to them talking. Draco close your ears! He was not eager. Okay! A bit. 

_‘No! Yes, yes! I mean she’s happy right, and that’s what is important.’_

_‘Harry. Are you happy?’_

_‘I don’t know mate. Gin’s brilliant and she deserves to be happy. Me… I’ll be good with time.’_ That’s something intelligent coming from Potter. 

_‘I know you won’t like this, but, just go on a date or two with any of the girls. I mean why not?’_ Bad influence Weasley. He heard Potter sigh. 

_‘They all want to go with me just because they think I’m The Saviour.’_

_‘Mate, sometimes love can be in unexpected places.’_ The next time Weasley spoke there was a sheepish voice. _‘You know like me and 'Mione.’_ Unexpected! Are Gryffindors really that oblivious! Even the Slytherins placed bets on when Weasley and Granger would get together, it was that obvious. 

Potter snorted. _‘My, my, my, look at the lover boy speaking! And Ron yours was far from unexpected. You both were together for a long time, it just took long enough for both of you to come in agreement with that.’_ Yes, Potter. Make the Weasel understand that! Okay the ginger must be all red now, Draco assumed. 

_‘But seriously mate try going with someone, maybe it’d be a success.’_

_‘Nah, everyone who asks wants to go with the Saviour, not... Harry.’_ Isn’t it the same thing? 

_‘Makes sense. Try some boys. Are there boys asking you?’_ Boys? Does that mean Potter is gay? Is that why he and the Weaslette broke up? No, wait! Weasley first asked about girls, didn’t he? Does that mean Potter is bisexual? 

_‘One or two, and that’s because they don’t know I bend both ways.’_ How come The Prophet never made any news about it, with Skeeter working there. 

_‘Harry you can’t be like this forever you know, denying the fact someone really loves you’,_ Weasley said. _‘Try with muggles, if you want to be Harry.’_ That’s wrong Weasley, very wrong. 

_‘Then again I’ll have to hide a part of myself, won’t I?’_ Potter! You can’t expect everything to go in accordance. 

_‘Mate, you put an end to every path I find.’_ Yes Potter, what really are you expecting? Someone perfect? Greedy fellow! 

_‘Well, I am a bisexual disaster, ain’t I?’_ Aha! Speaking the truth, Potter. Good for you.

Weasley snickered. _‘Well yes! My mate is a bisexual disaster! And I’m bloody proud of it!’_ Weasley almost yelled out. Potter chuckled. _‘But mate, try going out with someone. I just want you to be happy.’_

 _‘Well I am happy. And I want someone to accept both of us. Not just anyone who wants fame by being with me. Someone to love, like you and 'Mione, the living part, not the “denying part.”’_ Both of us? Who the heck is the other? Weasley didn’t speak after that, but he wanted him to speak because he very badly wanted to know who the other one was! Weasley open your uncontrollable mouth! 

He was thinking of all possibilities about who the other one was. Did Potter and the Weaslette have a child? If so it should have been in The Prophet. Did he miss it? Or did Potter have a secret child with someone else? Did Potter have some secret lover, with him being bisexual? Salazar’s left nipple, who the hell is that person? Okay, so it’s a task. 

His mind was a mess by the time he left. He found out Potter was single these days, he found out Potter was bisexual, bisexual disaster to be specific. Which means Draco has a chance, maybe he could try. But the other half of him was like, what if Potter rejects him again? So he shouldn’t try on that. It’s just a crush he could get over with, not like he loved Potter with all his heart and soul. He needs answers. He needs Pansy. _Now!_


End file.
